miner. "Our contention is with the captain. Mates, what do y' say? Shall we pay him a visit?"
"Aye—aye!" from all sides. "Let us show him our minds."
A boisterous voice exclaimed: "We'll serve him out for taking the bread out of our mouths. We'll tumble his house about his ears. He sha'n't stand in our light any more."
And another called, "If you want to prosecute us, we'll provide you with occasion."
Then a stone was flung, which struck Jingles on the head and knocked him down.
For a few minutes the young man was unconscious, or rather confused, he never quite lost his senses. The women clustered about him, and Mrs. Tregose threw water in his face.
He speedily gathered his faculties together, and stood up, rather angry than hurt, to see that nearly all the men had departed. The act of violence, instead of quelling the excitement, had stirred it to greater heat; and the body of men, the miners, labourers, the blacksmith, tailor, and shoemaker, their sons and apprentices, went off in a shouting, gesticulating rabble in the direction of the Cleave, not of Chillacot, but of the down overhanging it.
In a moment the latent savage, suppressed in those orderly men, was awake and asserting itself. Mr. Welsh had spoken the truth when he told Jingles that the destructive passion was to be found in all; it was aroused now. The blacksmith, the tailor, the shoemaker, the labourers, had all in their several ways been working constructively all their life, one to make shoes and harrows, one to shape trousers and waistcoats, one to put together boots, others to build, and plant, and stack, and roof, and now, all at once, an appeal came to the suppressed barbarian in each, the chained madman in the asylum, and the destructive faculty was loose and rioting in its freedom.
